They are concrete cemeteries br Of commoners’ cherished rights br Where sleeping vultures are in wait br For hapless living corpses to step in br Only rustling sounds of currency notes br Can arouse their spirits aloft br Into bustling activity of remorseless hustle br Like stimulating smelling salts br Behold! They are cartels br Of our great bureaucratic stalwarts! br br They assume, they’re taking home br Bounties (booties) of their smartest schemes br But by the time they sense br They are only carrying the weight of their sins br Burning they will be, in Avernus kilnsbr br sathya narayanabr br